The Art of Hatred
by UniquenessInAbundance
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a wizard and a vengeful vampire slayer. Harry Potter has survived his attack and now has a plan to kill the wizard and reclaim his position. However, how can things ever go according to plan when a love potion is involved? And what role does Voldemort play in this comedy of errors? Vampire!Harry. Slash H/D. Mostly AU with a splash of the familiar magic thrown in.
1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger; More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, mild violence and wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to David Heyman. The original characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. Any similarity with any person/people is simply coincidental.

* * *

PROLOGUE:

Two months ago, a slayer killed Harry Potter. Not just any slayer but a vigilante wizard with death in his expressionless grey eyes. As if acid, his blood ate into Harry's flesh. Felled in an instant, Harry had gasped for breath and could not find it.

His heart had stopped beating.

A vampire isn't supposed to survive the Dark Mark—that's what vampires call a wizard's blood—but, after being hit, Harry had collapsed onto the body of one of his dying cohorts. An Irish man named Seamus Finnegan. Crazed by the active decimation of his body, he'd drunk from his friend, racing to take the blood before death's release of the mortal soul made it useless.

The blood had served to restart Harry's heart. Painfully and slowly.

He wasn't sure how he'd made it home or how he'd been able to stop the caustic effects of the Dark Mark. And it didn't matter anymore. Harry had survived.

He was now a vampire phoenix, risen from ash and blood.

But his injuries had forced him into seclusion for a wizard wound proved a stubborn heal. He still bore scars from his fight with his executioner; the most interesting of which was the one on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Harry hated that scar with a passion.

Before being transformed into a vampire, Harry had been a surgeon; a man who had witnessed many people survive incredible odds to recuperate and heal. But yes, sometimes they also died. Experiencing recovery for himself had changed him.

It had fixed a lust for vengeance into the scarred sinews of Harry Potter's soul. A lust so deep that it could only be satisfied with the ultimate punishment.

Death.

He, a man who had always striven for peace, now desired a bloody revenge.

Harry had argued with himself a lot during the time he was convalescing. A compliant man; he had tried to mold his morals with his new-found streak of revenge. After all, Harry could not just stand back and do nothing when he knew the slayer yet stalked the shadows in search of more vampires to make into ash.

Not to mention, Summer solstice arrived in two weeks. That night, Harry planned to return to his home. Hogwarts. Yet he could not do that until the anger that had brewed within him for two months was settled.

Before the attack, Harry had led his house and served them well for twenty years. Everyone would be wary, which was only natural as everyone supposed Harry to be dead. But no-one would dare question his authority. After all, Harry was powerful now. He possessed immunity now. He had survived the effects of the Dark Mark and the wizards could not harm him again.

So, he would be invaluable. He would fight for his house and his friends and destroy the enemy. However, only one thing could tip the scales and return his mind to the peaceful resolve needed to lead properly.

Tonight, he would kill the slayer.

Tonight he would kill Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

I know this is a pretty over-abused plot-line that I am using. However, I hope that you would like my writing and bear with it. Since this is my first time writing slash, even though my OTP is Drarry, I am naturally a bit nervous. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

This is also an assurance that this fic shall not be discontinued; no matter whatever the circumstances.

And so the story begins...


	2. A single act fuels a thousand hates

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, mild violence, Wizard bashing and a brief gory battle scene.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to David Heyman. The original characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. Any similarity with any person/people is simply coincidental.

* * *

CHAPTER 1: The fabric of fate intervenes

_Two months earlier:_

Jamming the syringe into the gel-tipped shotgun cartridge, Draco Malfoy filled the last of a dozen bullets with five milliliters of his blood. He did this every Sunday night.

It was a ritual. He needed rituals. After nearly two centuries of living, rituals kept his life on track and his focus sharp.

He'd been stalking the House Gryffindor for weeks. They laid low and never made a mistake. He attributed that to their leader, Harry Potter, who was known to keep a very tight rein on the House members.

No unnecessary kills—that was their law. A dead vampire was never an unnecessary kill; that was Draco's.

A count over the weeks had determined nearly two dozen in the House. The number of enemies didn't faze Draco. He was a wizard. So long as he kept his back to a wall and his gun loaded; no long tooth was going to mess with him.

The vampire's choice was to either run or take a blood bullet and explode into ash. He preferred the exploding part as opposed to running. But they could run forever; He'd never give up his quest to annihilate every bloody long tooth on this Earth. It was a promise he'd made to his parents on the eve of their gruesome deaths.

Draco checked the sawed-off shotgun for a full load and fitted it into the leather holder strapped across his back. Another belt strapped at his thigh secured a silver dagger, the edged metal soaked in his blood.

He wore leather chaps over tight-fitted black suede pants and a white button-down beneath his leather vest. The shirt was new and Draco felt a brief pang at wasting such an expensive piece of clothing but as always, his urge to look good worn out. Encasing his feet in his custom made Italian loafers, Draco turned towards the huge mirror on the wall.

The first thing he noticed was how tired he looked. It may have something to do with the recurring nightmares waking him up at sudden intervals of the night. His mother's dying voice rang in his mind and the blonde-haired wizard flinched.

Shaking his head to get rid of his suddenly morbid mood, Draco reached back and secured his shoulder-length platinum strands out of the way with a ribbon. His dragon-hide gloves slid on and snapped with a resounding snap.

He was ready.

The only thing that could take him down tonight was reluctance and he knew it wouldn't bother him. For beyond the innate determination that fueled the fire in Draco Malfoy, lived an indelible image of his parents' dying faces. No matter the notches Draco marked on his gun or the plunge toward darkness that occurred when slaying tipped his magical balance, that image would never be erased.

Not once did he question his relentless quest. For if he did, the truth might be harder to face than a house of bloodthirsty vampires.

* * *

Today was the long-awaited meeting between the two breeds. The leader of the vampire clan had been restless the entire morning, wondering how the wolves would react to his demands.

As the sun was setting, Harry's patience was almost at an end. He quickly set out from their warehouse with his battalion of vampires. Once they had reached the meeting grounds, the wolves sent him a messenger stating that there would be no communication-gathering this night. After growling at the quivering envoy, Harry Potter could be seen pacing around his House members. No one dared to interrupt him.

As it was, Harry was seriously pissed off.

The nerve of Fenrir Greyback, the leader of the wolf pack. He had insulted Harry with his blatant disregard for the vampire/wolf relations.

And while he preached peace to his House, Harry would not stand back and watch the wolves creep onto his grounds and begin to terrify those he had sworn to protect.

"We'll snuff him out of his lair." Blaise Zabini, second in command to Harry, suggested; finally breaking the ugly silence. "I'll gather the troops?"

He looked rather excited at the prospect of battle but Harry sighed.

"No. They have shown us their fear. It is enough."

For Harry would not march his men into needless battle when negotiations can bear equal fruit albeit in more time. He would have personally liked nothing better than to strangle Fenrir but the vampire leader knew that would not be beneficial for his house.

He could sense Zabini's tension, the need to react and charge into danger; as it stiffened his cohort next to him. Never would Blaise completely accept the peaceable ways of House Gryffindor but Harry was reassured in knowing that he did try to embrace them. The man had not killed for survival in the three years he'd been with them.

With a whistle, Harry called the nine vampires who had accompanied him and Blaise into a circle in the middle of the dark alley. They would regroup and disperse. Harry hoped there wouldn't be too much dissent against the wolves' behavior.

What Harry hadn't expected, however, was the sudden light blinding them all momentarily.

With a feeling of premonition, he had looked around for a means to escape and realized the bad tactical error in assembling everyone in a tight target.

Too late! He thought. We are doomed to…

The first cry of "Wizard!" froze Harry's blood and jumbled his thought process momentarily. He had thought that it was a betrayal by the wolves.

Two of his cohorts went down in a flash of sizzling flesh and blood. Their cries were unreal, choking screams as their bodies were destroyed by the surprise attack.

It could only be a vigilante wizard, armed with blood bullets—the Dark Mark.

"Bastard," Harry swore and sought the direction of the attack, while calling out to the others. "Retreat!"

Another comrade Lee Jordan—a friend for fifteen years—exploded before Harry. He caught bits of flesh and blood against his palms. So quickly they were taken down. It was not right.

_How to stop it?_

Blaise caught his gaze and nodded. He was on his way out—every vampire for himself and woe to the fool who did not flee.

Harry turned and spied a glint of pale silver in the narrow alley between two brick buildings but it was around fifty strides away. The wizard. He stalked the shadows; sure and relentless.

There were two vampires left standing beside himself. Panicked, they raced toward the approaching menace. Harry let them.

He, meanwhile, caught hold of Seamus Finnegan in his arms. The Irish man had been hit but he would not be reduced to ash like the others; for he was a mortal supplicant to the House, one who sought immortality and wanted to be with his vampire mate Dean Thomas, but first must prove his dedication to the Dark.

Harry dragged his dying body behind a rusted Dumpster.

A bullet shrilled past Harry's head and hit the brick wall right above his shoulder. A glass-tipped bullet that contained wizard's blood.

A scout had once obtained one of the bullets for the House's study but a drop of wizard's blood infused into a vampire's bloodstream, took a manic trip through his body and ate him from the inside out. It proved a quick yet excruciating death.

Something stung his shoulder. Fiery bites ate along his neck and cheek.

Harry dropped Seamus onto the tarmac and slapped at the incredible pain. It sizzled down his torso and up, under and along his left arm; eating into his leather clothing and gnawing at his naked flesh.

"No." Harry croaked mindlessly. He'd been splattered from the bullet that had hit the wall.

Staggering against the unreal pain, the raven-haired vampire dropped to his knees, landing beside Seamus's body.

The Dark Mark sizzled into his torso. His heart pumped furiously as if trying to outrun the inevitable. He slapped at the burning flesh, rolled over it to make it stop but did not cry out.

He was dead to the wizard.

And in a moment of clarity, he knew what had to be done. He needed blood. Lots of it.

Even as his flesh fell away from his bones, Harry ripped into Seamus's throat, drinking his blood and slapping his hands over the mortal's gaping chest wound to coat them in blood. He bathed himself in Seamus's fleeting life but it didn't seem as if he could ever stop the burn.

Listening, keen for the intruder, he realized his own pulse beats ceased.

His heart—

He gripped his chest but felt his insides.

Blood.

Ribs.

Organs.

His vision blurred. Breath stopped.

_Drink or die at the hands of the wizard._

Harry did not even entertain the second option. He couldn't die. There was too much at stake.

He would not die. He thought again, with a fierce conviction.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

The POV's may keep changing. They shall be clearly demarcated in case they do. For those waiting for the romance, a couple more chapters are still left before that boat sails…

Thank you for those Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

And so we know how Harry was reborn…


	3. Payback's a hardcore bastard

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, mild violence and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to David Heyman. The original characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. Any similarity with any person/people is simply coincidental.

* * *

CHAPTER 2: Revenge is the sweetest fruit ever

_Present Day:_

The wizard's name was Draco Malfoy. He rode a big black street chopper with the word Slytherin curved across the gas tank and wore more black leather than Harry did. Lithe but imposing in his costume, which also included visible weaponry that could annihilate a vampire in less than a minute, the wizard walked as if he owned the earth.

He was the only slayer in the region that Harry was aware of. _Not for long._ Harry thought vindictively as he sat motionless on his bed.

Harry had located the wizard's hideout. He lived at the edge of Scotland, about three miles at the top of a castle recently rehabbed for luxury flats. Nice but not half so spendy as his clothes. Every time Harry had seen him, Draco Malfoy had been wearing clothes that practically cascaded over him like a waterfall of a million dollars. For a while, Harry had wondered how could the wizard slay vampire in such a glossy uncomfortable attire.

But as it was, he did not give a fig for the wizard, his flashy clothes or his nasty soul. Let his burn. And then Harry would proudly present the ashes to his men.

He had also been observing, at a distance, the demonic slayer's comings and goings for the past ten days, the first days since his pseudo-death that he'd felt able to leave his home. The vampire killer went out three nights a week on the hunt—Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Harry had not witnessed him execute a kill yet, though.

His own house numbered eleven members, and had claimed Scotland's inner city of Hogwarts as territory against the two rival houses. There were a few independent vampires, not aligned to any house but they were stealthy and kept to the shadows.

Scotland was not a vampire hot spot. This surprised Harry.

The state offered a healthy six months of winter, which meant little sunlight and plenty of dark basements in which to hibernate. And a vampire could regulate his body temperature so the below-freezing weather affected him little.

Scotland was a bloodsucker's haven, if you asked him.

House Gryffindor was small but not stupid. Harry had purposefully kept their location away from New York, Miami or New Orleans; major vampire breeding grounds. The average metropolitan area hosted perhaps a hundred vampire or more.

He had prided himself on leading the most civilized house in the States. While others, such as House Ravenclaw and House Hufflepuff stalked the night, wreaking havoc and creating blood children indiscriminately; House Gryffindor strove to keep their bloodlines peaceful.

No accidental transformations, no witnesses, no mistakes. That had become Harry's personal mantra.

There were a few incidents to be overlooked, though. Hell, they were vampires, not tamed lions. The blood hunger was a powerful thing and could not be ignored or put aside as if it were a habit one could easily break. They, all vampires, were called the Dark. But none in House Gryffindor murdered for anything other than the sake of taking blood to sustain life.

Over the weeks since the wizard's attack, Harry had slowly healed.

Initially, Ronald Weasley, his closest ally and oldest friend, had brought him donors daily. The infusion of warm, mortal blood to his system had been supplemented with a weekly draw from Ron. Vampire blood proved more powerful in the healing process as opposed to mere mortal blood. Flesh had grown over Harry's exposed ribs within three weeks and slowly the charred skin on his arms and torso began to heal.

Now only the skin on his left arm, up along his neck and down his left side to his hip was puckered with pink scarred flesh. It looked abysmal but Harry wasn't concerned with appearance. In fact, he reveled in these scars. They gave him a renewed sense of reprisal each time.

At the sound of the front door sealing shut, Harry sighed and strode out to the living room which looked subdued in the evening light that snuck through the one window Ron had commandeered for an assortment of huge, leafy plants.

After the wizard's attack, Ron had returned to the House with word that their leader was still alive; not only alive but more powerful than ever and that he required time to heal.

A month ago, Ron had moved in with Harry in order to take care of the injured vampire. In spite of Harry's assurances that his mate and Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger, needed him; Ron had remained adamant. It didn't help that Hermione supported his decision fully.

Ronald Weasley was a good friend and it was with his help that Harry had gained back his strength and planned his revenge on the one who was the reason behind his wounded state.

Even though Harry didn't require twenty-four hour care now, he appreciated the company and was in no hurry to rush Ron out the door.

"Tonight the night?" Ron asked as he tossed the day's paper onto the coffee table and flicked the sunshades open. The electrochromic blackout glass seamlessly changed to clear. "I still think it's too soon for you to be going out on the hunt. You sure about this?"

"Never been more sure of a thing in my life," Harry growled. He punched a fist into his opposite palm, closing his eyes for a moment. A flash of blonde hair and grey eyes materialized in his mind.

Maintaining the anger was part of the plan.

Not that it was difficult but his red-headed freckled friend always played angel-on-the-shoulder to Harry's feral need to get things done; be it by force and fury or by talking through a vexing issue.

A man learned patience in the medical profession and Harry had spent a good number of years doing so but along with his mortality, his patience and empathy had been sluiced away with the blood that fateful night of his transformation.

"It'll close a chapter in your life." Ron agreed though his voice still had an edge of doubt.

"It'll feel damn good." Rubbing a palm up his torso, Harry strode across the room. The scar tissue on his side always drew his attention. It sent out the message "not whole but incapable" to any who might see it.

As he strolled into the kitchen, he punctuated his mood with a slam of his fist to the gray marble counter. He needed the wizard's limp body sprawled before him. That was the only ointment that would completely heal his wounds, both physical and emotional.

In the fridge, he eyed the bottles of wine Ron kept for his evening sacrament.

He sniffed. The corks gave up the rich aroma of eighteenth-century soil steeped with raspberries and limestone and the poignant cry of tiny black grapes plumped to bursting from the sun.

"You pick up the fish oil?"

"In the bag on the counter." Much as blood served his only means for regeneration, Harry believed some natural remedies certainly couldn't hurt.

Flexing his left arm, he eased his palm over the rippled flesh and picked up the wine bottle.

"You know." Ron commented. "You've got an opportunity to steal some of the wizard's magic if you don't do the deed too quickly."

_Right._

Harry was immune to his poisonous blood now. Or should be. A risk he was straining at the leash to take.

And should a vampire manage to drink wizard's blood without harm, the wizard's magic would flow into him. "Bewitched" is what they called the ancient vampires who were once able to enslave a wizard and consume his blood in order to increase their own strength.

Harry had never met any of the ancients, though tales told of half a dozen that yet lived. Some even claimed that their House's mentor Albus Dumbledore was an ancient. Something which had never been proven as the old vampire barely spoke to anyone.

"Any blood magic I gain will simply be a bonus." Harry finally answered as he took a huge dunk of the wine. It tasted awful.

He was a phoenix. And though he'd yet to test his strength, he wondered about the legend that a phoenix was indestructible. He didn't feel it but then again, he was still recovering.

Harry glanced back to his red-haired friend. "The kill is what I'm after and nothing but that."

"Do you know how odd it is to hear such a declaration from you?" Ron asked, completely serious for once.

Harry shrugged. "Yes." For he preached avoidance of any unnecessary fights. "You know this is necessary, Ron. I am doing this for the entire House. One less wizard in this world is one less nuisance for the vampire nation. I'm out of here."

Harry quickly decided, pushing back his hair. He couldn't stand to hear his arguments frizzle out in front of Ron. At least, it wasn't Hermione confronting him. Harry was definitely grateful for that.

"Have a nice evening!" Ron called behind his back.

Harry smirked as he strode for the front door. _Nice?_ He hadn't known so sublime an emotion since before he was turned. The world was not nice. The world demanded… presence.

And tonight Harry Potter intended to return with a vengeance.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

Thank you for those Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

Oooo… The drama begins…


	4. Reading the fine print of the deal

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, mild violence and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. Any similarity with any person/people is simply coincidental.

* * *

CHAPTER 3: Power is too much trouble

Making a deal with Voldemort himself had always been a bad idea. However, that hadn't stopped Draco Malfoy from doing so.

Three obligations had been set to him in exchange for the valued skill of Divination.

When offered the deal months earlier, it had been a no-brainer. To gain the ability to actually see his enemies and rule out the possible mistake of killing a muggle, Draco had jumped at the offer.

Jump wasn't exactly the word. A guarded "sure" had sealed the deal. For his soul was no longer his own. He hadn't so much sold it to the devil as loaned it.

Marked across the chest with a palpable tally, he had then set to obligation number one.

It had been easy. Almost too easy.

He even had to wonder why he'd lost sleep about making the deal. To merely locate a centaur and present it, seemed to have pleased Voldemort immensely and Draco wasn't stupid enough to question whether or not he had gotten off easy. When Voldemort was happy, Draco could live his life more peacefully.

There remained only two obligations to repay his debt and to see his soul returned.

Right now, he was focusing on the second—another deceptively simple request.

Bent before the cupboard between his refrigerator and the stainless-steel Potion lab table, Draco looked at a six-inch glass vial; his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

All week he had gathered ingredients for a Love Potion; A drop of Unicorn's blood and a cat's seventh life being the most difficult to come by. After carefully measuring and brewing, he'd brought the whole batch to a boil and then left it to cool.

Casting a quick Tempus, Draco realized that the Potion had simmered for nearly half an hour. With practiced movements, he hefted the bronze prewett cauldron and poured it into a vial.

A chocolaty smell filled the air and Draco wrinkled his nose. If the scent was anything to go by, then his potion had been more than successful.

He was careful, however, to ensure not a single drop was wasted. Unless the entire contents were consumed, potions could prove less than effective. In this case, six ounces of liquid could either be drunk or spread over the skin like a moisturizer; it wasn't particular, as long as the ingredients were absorbed into the bloodstream.

"A freakin' love potion." He muttered to himself with a roll of his eyes.

Draco could think of any number of situations in which Voldemort would use his expertise in Potion-making but making a love potion was not one of them. In fact, why the Dark Lord even needed such a questionable potion was beyond the blonde's understanding.

Setting the pot back on the cool burner with a clang, he straightened and searched for his wand so that he could cast a statis spell on the tube, until his employer asked for the potion.

Overhead, a jungle of hanging spider plants tendriled down, some tickling his head. Plants gave him vital energy and kept the apartment's balance.

He sighed and shook his head. "This is so not what I should be doing right now."

On the other hand, the occasional dabbling in actual spell craft and mixing kept his skills from fading. And it helped to tilt the balance back in his favor or so he hoped.

Draco Malfoy was a wizard; had been for more than two centuries. Though he had mastered most of the basic spells; the difficult ones still eluded him. Most of it was because he didn't spend much of his time sitting about; brewing up potions or practicing the art of spell casting.

In fact, it was rare when he indulged in his own magic for any purpose other than to ward his home against intruders. Which was why his life was so dangerously imbalanced right now.

A wizard wasn't a real wizard without consistent practice of spell craft.

So where had his focus gone over the years?

Draco had strived to make a mark on the world. As a slayer, Draco's job required him to destroy vampires. The only good a vampire could do was to make a pile of ash.

Out in the living room on the rosewood coffee table, a row of empty shotgun cartridges waited to be injected with his own blood before he went on patrol this evening.

House Gryffindor had been stalking the suburbs, stirring up a pact with the wolves. Draco had nothing against werewolves. They were the Vampire's enemies; not his. Not that he needed a shove to go after anyone that came in between his mission.

However, recently, he had been feeling weak and tired; a sure sign that he had pushed his life balance far to the Dark side.

"I am in the Light." He murmured to himself, though the declaration was absent of all the belief his ancestors had instilled in him since an early age.

Wizards were the Light. Vampires were the Dark. And while they were just terms used by the wizards for centuries, it was the rare wizard who abandoned the light of the craft to surrender his soul to darkness.

And those who did?

In the eighteenth century, after he had mastered the art of slaying, Draco had watched a fellow wizard take revenge against a farmer for raping him, by blighting his crops. That revenge was not so singular as it should have been. The farmer's entire family starved to death that winter. And the wizard, drawn to the Dark by his act of vengeance, continued to wreak havoc against any slight. He became a hag with a grotesque aura all creatures could see and all chose to avoid. Eventually he was consumed by darkness forever.

Since witnessing that fall to darkness, Draco had vowed that he would always strive for balance. While slaying was necessary, it also marked his soul darkly. So, he would always use his magic for good to keep the balance.

Of course, if he didn't practice magic, his balance angled out of whack and that was the last thing that Draco needed when fighting with a bloody vampire.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

This note spans two very different issues:

This is for the reviewer shedano. While I appreciate their comment about how I write my disclaimer and I accept that I stand corrected, that still doesn't reduce the ridiculousness of the fact that they issued a review solely based on this accusation. Not to mention, the hostile tone that the review took on. I mean, do you realize how eagerly a writer wishes to see their work appreciated and how disappointed a bloody flaming review makes them? It was only the disclaimer, for Merlin's sake!

On a different and happier note, today is my birthday. So, consider this chapter your treat. I'll probably post another one today. Yay for double updates.

Thank you for those Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

Let's just say that Voldemort is one sneaky bastard in this tale...


	5. Glitched entrances: The new cliche'

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, mild violence and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. Any similarity with any person/people is simply coincidental.

* * *

CHAPTER 4: The long-awaited meet and greet

The more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that something was deceptively wrong. No task should be this easy; especially not one issued by the Dark Lord himself.

The blonde haired wizard sighed. He had no choice now, either ways. His soul was in Voldemort's possession and nothing, other than completing the _sodding_ tasks, would bring it back to him.

And now having dealt with Voldemort's second job, Draco was growing quite desperate to begin bringing light back to his out-on-loan soul.

Ironically, this was exactly the reason why he'd bargained for the ability of Divination in the first place. The ability of predicting the future was a skill of the Light. He knew that sacrifices had to be made to keep the skill intact but ultimately, it would be for the greater good.

Referring with a glance to the instructions from the dusty old book he had dug up from his trunk, Draco nodded in satisfaction. The potion was nearly complete.

The book had been his godfather's gift to him when he was younger and Draco was glad to find that the notes on the edges had helped him to complete a potion reserved for five days in a mere twenty-four hours.

The potion now had to sit undisturbed for a couple of hours. A courier would arrive at daybreak for the pickup, he was sure. Voldemort had an uncanny ability to find out when he had finished his work. What happened after the potion left his hands did not concern him even if it did give him the chills.

Standing on his tiptoes—though some would label him short, Draco liked to think of himself as average in height for a seventeenth-century man—he carefully placed the vial on top of the refrigerator. His wand was nowhere in sight and he forewent the statis spell. It wasn't as if anyone would move the vial against his wishes, anyhow.

"See you in the morning—" Arms still raised high, Draco averted his attention from the vial suddenly as his senses focused on something nearby.

A non-mortal being was close. He had always felt such a presence as an intuitive clamp tightening his scalp. _Who or what…?_

A discernible wave shuddered through his apartment as if it were a frisson moving the air. He could actually see the air molecules and walls and furniture be displaced in a wavery shiver. His heart dropped two inches.

Draco felt his mouth dry up. It couldn't be what he was suspecting it was.

"My wards are breeched?" The moment the thought entered his mind, the aristocratic wizard scoffed.

_ Impossible._

The entire block was warded to warn him of impending danger. The apartment building was cloaked and set to alarm should an enemy cross the threshold to the first-floor foyer. And if anyone, creature or being, got past all that, the repulse ward he'd set up to span twenty feet about his property should have alerted him like a punch to the gut.

"Something must have glitched then."

_Again, impossible._

Wood creaked. Heavy metal bolts tore from hinges. Someone was at his door; possibly trying to force an entry. That doused Draco out of his surprised haze.

_Weapons._ He thought in a panic. He needed to protect himself.

A loud slam echoed from around the corner of the kitchen. The crash of the front door to the floor made Draco jump at least a mile into the air. Chaotic commotion vibrated throughout the apartment.

Draco spun around to escape but his elbow hit hard against the refrigerator door handle. Before he could register the pain, his grey eyes focused on the precious potion placed on the top. Almost in slow motion, Draco watched as the vial on the top tethered for a single second, before tumbling down on top of his silken strands.

Splattered with an officious rain of chocolate smelling wetness, he scrambled with shaking hands to right the vial but as the potion continued to drip, the wizard swallowed and stared at the mess.

"Screw it!" He muttered under his breath. Draco didn't have time to deal with non-essentials like ruined potions.

Someone—or something—had invaded his home. And his closest weapon was in the artillery closet across the living room. No matter whatever happened, Draco had to get his hands on it.

He took two steps, trying not to let the gripping fear immobilize him. However, before he could make any more progress, he was slammed into a force so substantial that it set him back and thumped his shoulders against the fridge. Again.

When Draco recovered his bearings, he came face to face with a frightening sight. A man stood in his kitchen, blocking his path.

Big and imposing. Dark, so dark. Raven-black hair flowed about his head in a frenzied mess and broad shoulders like a wicked flag warning against cutthroats. Black leather creaked as he fisted his fingers together.

As the droplets of the spell dribbled down his forehead, Draco spat at the liquid. However, his gaze remained captured by the shining emerald eyes of the man. Electricity charged between them; drowning him and making him stare at the handsomely rugged creature.

Within the strange mist in his mind, however, Draco saw the intruder for his truth—a vampire.

His new-found skill helped him with it. Draco could easily distinguish their kind as they wore an aura like glittering rubies shadowed with ash. Indeed, the ability of Divination was valuable. He'd never regret making a deal with the devil.

But that this creature had permeated his wards and stood in his home staring him down as if Draco were his next meal, infuriated him. _How had he entered without verbal permission anyhow?_

A vampire could not cross a private threshold uninvited and if there was a loophole around such a thing, then Draco definitely wanted to know it.

Whatever the glitch that had allowed the dark haired vampire entrance, Draco wasn't about to bemoan his privacy or his safety. He didn't need weapons this time. This one, he could even battle with his hands tied behind his back.

Letting a smirk break across his face, Draco bit the inside of his cheek, tasting the blood and sucking it into his saliva.

The long tooth would be ash in no time.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

Sadly, my amazing plan for double update failed as I was dragged into visiting my grandmother with my mom for a celebratory birthday party. Hope you all forgive me. I promise I shall make it up to you. By the way, some _people_ complained that my chapters are too short. How many of you think so?

Thank you for those Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

So, did you all catch my reference to the fact that Draco is drenched in a (gasp!) Love Potion. I think some of you would probably figure out where I am going with this. ;)


	6. Hate me 'till I die

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, in-explicit violence, mild cursing and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

* * *

CHAPTER 5: When hate isn't enough

_Stupid, brave little wizard. _

Harry stared at his enemy in cold wonder. The infamous slayer was standing right in front of him, with his fists raised and defiance shining about him like diamonds dipped in oil. His clothes, for once, seemed less than perfect. His hair was wet and sticking to his face in a disarray.

He looked… beautiful.

For a few moments, Harry was stunned. _Did I just call the bloody wizard beautiful?_

Even if it had only been in his mind, Harry was disgusted. He remembered how difficult the road back from ash and bone had been, residing on being almost impossible at times and it was all because of Draco Malfoy, vigilante vampire hunter.

That spurred Harry's anger on and he crossed the kitchen floor in three large strides. Pushing the wizard's chin up, he slammed him against the refrigerator, placing a hand on each side of the blonde's head for good measure, in order to prevent him from escaping.

The room reeked of herbs, smoke and a spiced sweetness. Wizard smells. _No doubt he'd been brewing a wicked spell before I had come. _

Harry lifted the slayer's surprisingly petite frame with ease, crushing his fingers about the others windpipe. And yet, the man struggled.

Harry smirked, trying not to enjoy himself but he had waited for his revenge long enough to not not feel the victory coursing through his vein.

Malfoy was feisty. His bare feet hit every part of Harry's thighs and even glanced across his groin. However, he felt nothing, so long as he kept his eyes burned onto the wizard's. Grey, they were, like diamonds that had lost their shine.

The blonde slashed at his chest and arms, with fingernails that would have drawn blood had he been wearing anything but leather. And then Malfoy spat on him, hitting him directly on the cheek.

He stopped struggling then. Harry supported the wizard's weight as the man went completely limp, waiting for something. Something that wouldn't happen again.

Harry couldn't help the wide smirk from crossing his face as wide, enraged eyes took in his reaction. Or rather, his non-reaction.

"That's right, wizard." Harry flashed another sharp smile, full of menace.

With his free hand, he swiped away the spittle and showed his fingers to the slayer. The blood sat upon his flesh as if nothing more than mud kicked up in a fight. "Your blood is like water to me now. Harmless and useless"

The risk had been worth it, Harry thought to himself as his hand clamped on Malfoy's neck. For a moment, he had doubted whether or not the slayer's blood would harm him further but now, all doubt had dissipated to give way to a feeling of sadistic joy.

"Impossible." Malfoy croaked, disbelief shining in his usually expressionless eyes. "You're a vampire! How?! Who—who are you?"

Moving his hand from the pale throat of his captive and slamming his other palm against the blonde's shoulder, Harry held the wizard pinned. As he lunged forward, a foul wizard smell laced with herbs and a chocolaty stench scurried up the vampire's nostrils and into his sinuses. The essence of the wizard disgusted him. Harry should be done with him right now but he'd waited for this moment too long. Not once had he rushed anything important. He would make his suffering mean something for the entire tribe.

"My name," Harry said, his voice low and clear, "is Harry Potter. I am the lord of House Gryffindor."

"Oh, yeah?" In spite of the physical restraint, the blonde managed to choke out a response, his voice pitched and heavy. "Last I checked, Blaise Zabini was leading those infidels."

"Zabini merely fills in while I have been away." Harry curled his lips in a sneer.

"Yeah? Well, I don't fucking believe you. Harry Potter is dead." Malfoy bit out, his eyes challenging the vampire to refute.

Harry growled under his breath. The nerve of the blonde when Harry stood right before him!

Before Harry could retort or perhaps, simply, resort to violence, the blonde spoke up again. "I killed Potter, I know it. A stinking vamp, he was, too!"

Again Malfoy spat, his spit landing on Harry's chin. Frustration was starting to break through the wizard's carefully constructed expression. "You smell like a long tooth. You even look like one. But—"

Harry cut in, placing one hand on the man's mouth and cutting his speech off. "But your damned poisonous blood has no power over me now."

Twice now Malfoy had spat upon him. Any other vampire would have been a sizzling pile of ash right now. Harry knew the feeling. All too well.

"You don't remember me, do you, wizard?" Harry muttered, slammed him hard when the blonde started struggling again. A quick glance over his captive made Harry zero his eyes on the dark liquid spattering the pale forehead, nose and cheeks. Blood leaked from the corner of Malfoy's mouth.

The sight tempted him and Ron's reminder that he should take some of the wizard's magic distracted him momentarily but before the blonde could take advantage of his lapse, Harry was back on his feet.

He placed his mouth next to the wizard's ear, ignoring the shiver that traveled through his body at the unexpected softness of the man's skin. Making sure that his words and their meaning were clear to the blonde, Harry spoke again. "Two months ago you attacked House Gryffindor. Why? And that too without provocation."

A couple of seconds passed as silence prevailed in the room.

When it became increasingly obvious that Malfoy won't answer his questions that easily, Harry frowned, pushing the lithe body even sharper against the refrigerator door. "That night, I became another notch on your gun, wizard. Well, erase that notch because I didn't die."

Malfoy tried to turn away from Harry but the vampire wasn't going to allow that. He placed a rough hand on the blonde's chin. "Answer. Me. Wizard."

Fortunately, Draco must have realized what was better for him, for he spoke up in a quiet voice. "I d-don't understand."

"I am a _phoenix_." Harry answered simply. To recite the word filled him with pride. Any vampire who survived the death cocktail was termed a phoenix, for the vampire literally did rise from ash to struggle back to life.

The blonde's mouth twisted but he didn't speak anything. He didn't need to. Harry had seen everything he needed in the wizard's brief unguarded expression. Apparently, Malfoy didn't believe him when Harry said that he was a phoenix.

Well, Harry thought with a shrug, it didn't matter what the wizard believed. He had stalled for long enough. It was time to do what he had come to do.

"You killed me once, wizard. Now, it's my turn."

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

Yes, well, there is no love lost between the two of them. I hope that changes soon. Because, Drarry, people.

On another thought, I think I should apologize for the late update. The last four months have been extremely stressful for me. First, there is a lot of pressure of exams and college selection and I am barely keeping myself from crumbling under it. Also, my grandmom is facing cancer. Thankfully, she is showing a positive result with regards to the treatment but it had been a busy time.

Thank you for those Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time. And just to re-iterate, I won't leave the story in progress. I may be a lazy person and the updates may not be regular but the story will be finished. I am grateful to those who are sticking around for the journey.


	7. A fine line between love and hate

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, in-explicit violence, mild cursing and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

* * *

CHAPTER 6: Hate?

Harry found himself experiencing a form of sadistic pleasure in watching the wizard's cold grey eyes widen at his words. To drive his intention home, he dug his fingers into his captive's shoulders, ignoring the brief flare of pain in his left lung. He wasn't completely healed to be partaking in this kind of violence but loath him if Harry was to let that stop him from getting his retribution.

The grey open-collared shirt that Malfoy wore crinkled even further and stretched under the pressure of Harry's grip. Slamming his hips against the other man's torso, Harry pinned the wizard effectively under him, rocking the refrigerator in the process.

A mist of something rained down from above the fridge, splattering the blonde's angry red face. It had been dripping softly from the moment Harry had entered the room but the vampire had been too focused on other things to notice earlier. He took a sniff and then crinkled his nose. It smelled sweet, almost like chocolate. Which immediately had Harry on guard again. No wizard smell was a good one.

Malfoy must have noticed his attention focused on the dripping wetness for he valiantly tried to push Harry off him again. Unsuccessfully.

Harry's mouth twisted as words poured out of him. "Now it's my turn, wizard. I've waited nearly two months for this day. You don't know how I struggled to come back from a half-burned walking hunk of flesh you had turned me into. A vampire can never completely heal from your Dark Mark but—"

Harry was rudely interrupted by Malfoy's cry. "Let me go, asshole, and we'll handle this with blades and stakes. If you are so sure of yourself, face me as a warrior; not a _coward_!"

"And another of your blood bullets? Go ahead." He hissed against the pale cheek. "Drown me in your crimson poison. I will bathe in your taint and wear it proudly as a _warrior_ displays his victories to the world." Harry glared into the grey eyes, watching the unwavering pride in them and hating the wizard even more for it. "I intend to drain you dry and it'll be the sweetest drink I've ever tasted."

As Harry slammed Malfoy against the refrigerator wall again, the wizard's head fell back towards the stainless-steel door, exposing the pulsing carotid—breakfast, lunch and dinner. Opening his jaw wide, Harry didn't try to fight his natural instinct, clamping on to the long pale neck that had been tempting him all evening.

He fought to wrangle the blonde, slashing the long legs with his own. Holding the wizard with his jaw, Harry gripped the slayer's slim wrists with each hand and spread them out from his body.

Harry smirked as he got ready to bite into the warm skin. It was an evil move on his part for Harry would not put the wizard into a reverie by using his innate persuasion—he wanted the bastard to feel every moment of terror. Just like Harry had been forced to feel when recuperating.

With that as his last thought, Harry Potter moved forward. Canines pierced flesh and artery.

As he'd predicted, the first gush of blood tasted awful. Wizard blood. Reeking of rosemary and salt and something inexplicable he couldn't name but felt as a strange tingle at the back of his throat. It brought back memories best left to the grave. A grave Harry had once walked across but had no intention of lying in ever again.

"No!" Malfoy's protest spurred Harry on. Wrenching the blonde's head down and to the side, Harry drew out his sharp teeth from the wizard's neck and drank the warm blood that spilled to the surface. It grew much tastier as he swallowed. Warm, rich and succulent; spiced with the forbidden and laced with adrenaline. An addictive drug to all vampires.

"This can't…" Harry heard a murmur escape the slayer's lips. "Not right. St-Stop… The…the spell…"

Harry paid no heed to it and no remorse surfaced as he continued to drink. The wizard's death would fulfill a craving no amount of blood could ever match—that of revenge. Although it was a crime against his ideals of non-violence, it was a crime Harry had been straining at the leash to commit in order to ensure the safety of his tribe.

As the resistance from the wizard slowed down and his muscles slackened, Harry paused for a moment. Malfoy seemed to be unconsciousness and the vampire had to support the man's upper body to stop him from falling down in a limp.

Looking into the pale drawn face, Harry sighed. His want had been served yet he could drink all day and never fill up his need. Now that the wizard was no longer aware of the torture and pain, Harry was considering whether to put an end to the persecution and simply kill Draco Malfoy without preamble.

Harry Potter was still deep in thought when the swoon fell upon him with a startling attack.

Tossing back his head, Harry gasped out a cry of pleasure. The high of blood extraction dizzied his brain and swirled his thoughts. It was much later when he realized that he must have dropped the wizard to the floor because his hands were moving before him, grasping and searching without finding their target. The room wavered in black and white, darkening and then brightening suddenly. So much so that Harry couldn't help but wince.

Breathing deeply in an attempt to regain control over his body, Harry felt each inhale and exhale as a sensual attack that heated the very molecules of his body. The air caressed his pores and shimmied brightly down his throat in the wake of the life-giving elixir. He grew hard with desire—a usual reaction to drinking blood but entirely unexpected in this situation.

This swoon—it was different.

It had come on all too suddenly and it lasted too long. The frenzy caused by bloodlust had always hit Harry many hours after drinking someone's blood; which was the prime reason how he had always been so controlled and precise in his kills. But this time? He hadn't even begun to drain the wizard when the hunger overwhelmed him.

A flicker of a thought came to the vampire's mind. _The wizard must die. Draco Malfoy must die. Pick him up. Finish the task._

However, no matter how hard he tried Harry couldn't move his arms. He collapsed next to the unconscious wizard. Something wasn't right and yet, it was all very very right.

Harry wanted to kill the wizard but he found that he suddenly lacked the conviction to go through with it. He looked towards the pale handsome face of his nemesis and felt heat pooling in his groin. It was a strange reaction but Harry couldn't stop the gush of orgasm that filled his veins and thickened his erection.

It was pretty similar to sex and yet much more intense, for it traveled his entire body system. Harry suddenly found himself aching for something. Something that he didn't want to name, too scared what it would mean for him.

_What in Godric's name is happening to me?_

That was the last thought Harry was aware of before the poisonous wizard's blood tracked his extremities and staked claim to his broken soul.

Harry reached out towards the pale hand lying flaccidly in front of him, his eyes roaming over the full cold lips of the slayer.

"Draco…" The word escaped him, breaking the hushed silence of the room. Harry linked their fingers together and found the desire and heat double immediately, making him moan quietly.

Harry had no idea what was happening to him but he found that he didn't care any longer. After all, the only thing that mattered at this point of time was the wizard. His pretty little wizard. His pretty little wizard who filled him, completed him, sweetened him and possessed him.

All Harry knew was that Draco Malfoy had claimed him without even being conscious in the process.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note:**

Dun… Dun… Dun… As you can pretty much see, we come to a turning point in the story. I would appreciate if minors keep out since this is pretty much a porn story and at best, there would be some heavy words used; so yeah. I know I can't stop people who aren't supposed to read porn from reading this, but, I sure as hell won't want any flames sent my way. Don't like it; don't read it.

Also, I would like to point out that I am gonna make the chapters longer from here and out. At least, an additional 500 words from my lovely readers. Enjoy.

Thank you for those who Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.


	8. Where the lines blur

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); Harry Potter/Ginerva Weasley (Past); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/M sex, mild cursing and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

* * *

CHAPTER 7: An inch of desire

"Malfoy?" Harry Potter gasped in searching wonder, flabbergasted to find the name sounding so unappealing. He tried again. "Draco?" There. That was much better; the name slipping like silk over his tongue.

Sitting back on his knees, Harry looked around the tiled floor. Blood spotted the checkered black and white kitchen tiles. Small, fragile glass shards clicked beneath his knees; Harry remaining safe because of the leather jeans he wore.

In the middle of all this mess lay his salvation. Harry dove his calloused hands into the soft strands of fine platinum hair as another thought broke through the mist in his head.

_Here is where you belong. What you were searching for your whole life! How could you have hurt him? _

The blonde slayer was sprawled in a comatose heap, his head tilted to the right to expose the deep wounds that Harry had inflicted on him. Blood streamed down the wizard's neck and across his chest, staining the grey shirt; already torn at the crow-line and practically seconds from completely ripping up. Harry stared in childish fascination at the wizard's drawn face. There was no emotion on the blonde's pale countenance. No anger. No fight. Utterly silenced, his gorgeous wizard. Had he…?

Harry felt a spike of fear travel through his heart at the thought of something happening to his wizard. He immediately scooped Draco into his arms, making sure not to jostle the man any more than necessary.

With a deep breath, the vampire pressed his lips to Malfoy's forehead. A sigh of relief escaped him. Draco didn't feel inordinately cold. A steady pulse beat against Harry palm where he had slapped it over the blonde's bloodied neck. A slight twinge of guilt tightened his stomach as Harry stood up with the wizard in his arms. He carefully ran a hand over the man's face, pushing the strands of hair away gently. "What have I done to you, my love?"

Having had staked the house earlier, Harry was thankfully aware of the floor plan and hence did not waste a single moment in walking towards the bedroom he assumed was used by the wizard.

With practiced movements and a hint of tenderness, Harry laid Draco down on the center of a king-size bed that mastered the white marble floorboards in the bedroom. A thick black quilt cradled Draco, contrasting with his pastel self and making him seem as if he were an angel resting amidst darkness. A bloody angel, though, Harry thought wryly.

Sitting on the edge of the colossal bed, Harry finally let his head fall into his hands. The last few seconds had changed something within him. He didn't know what it was but his world now seemed more colorful and the wizard more beautiful. The wizard… Harry knew that he had not killed the blonde. He smoothed a palm over the beginnings of some facial hair and drew it down his chin, thinking hard.

_I had almost killed him. But then, I hadn't. Why didn't I kill Mal-Draco? Draco Malfoy, this… wizard? Vampires and wizards are enemies. What in the world is the matter with me?! _

With his hands clenched into fists, Harry stood up abruptly and hissed through his teeth. Frustrated rage emerged and flooded his system. Stalking the floor from the door to the far end walls, he resisted the urge to growl out his aggravation.

Malfoy lay there, inert, his pale blonde hair splayed across the black comforter, making an halo around him. Silent. Peaceful. Unable to lash out; to fight and to challenge Harry. This was the wizard who had once injured him so badly that he had touched death. Harry's heart had stopped. He'd had to feed on a friend to survive.

Heat flushed the brunette's neck and filled him from his skull to the heels. A storm of vengeance raged for release but— but this felt different. Unusual. For where the rage should have felt substantial, insistent and uncontrollable; now, it merely settled and became an emotional reaction that Harry might not have touched for what seemed like ages. Heartbeats quieted. Fisted fingers snapped open. Anxiety fled, softening the thick tension holding the vampire's neck stiff.

He bent over the body sprawled across the bed, his palms sinking deep into the plush coverlet. This wizard, this gorgeous and unbelievably attractive man deserved something… Harry was drawing a blank on what it was that Draco Malfoy deserved but there was no denying the feelings of desire and possessiveness sweeping through his chest. Harry had only felt this way once before but the feelings for Ginerva Weasley had been dormant for too long that the sensations curling in his gut felt new and exquisite.

He swept his head lower over Draco's face but stopped short of touching the man's lush inviting mouth.

Blood coated the pale neck of his love. Harry took a sniff and was surprisingly startled to find how different it smelled. Not a single bit like mortal blood; there lingered an odd musky smell to Malfoy. Earlier when Harry had attacked the wizard, the scent of rosemary had come to him but it seemed to have changed now. This scent was sweet with the slight tinge of something spicy. Cherry? Or musk and chocolates? Harry couldn't place it.

Curiosity held him over the bed, the tips of his dark hair sweeping across the unconscious wizard's bloodied neck and chest. Swiping a forefinger through the blood, Harry observed the crimson drop glisten under the magnificent lamp that shone dimly at the head of the bed. So deadly this small drop of life should be, Harry mused in wonder. It had once eaten through him, literally, to his heart. It had rendered dead six members of House Gryffindor in less than five minutes.

The Dark Mark, this. Dangerous; to be avoided at all costs for it promises to bring so much pain!

Yet now… Harry wanted more.

_I do? _

Harry was startled enough by this revelation that he backed away from the bed. "Not right." He muttered under his breath, unable to help himself from sucking his finger clean. The taste of the wizard's blood shimmered through him, warming his belly and revisiting the spark of sexual desire he had experienced earlier. With the blood hunger always came the need for carnal satisfaction; a yearning that only seemed to increase manifold in the proximity of Draco Malfoy.

"Not right…" He murmured again taking a step closer to the blonde but making sure to keep his hands to himself. For the moment. "Not right but not… wrong."

Harry glanced over the havoc marring the wizard's bruised neck. He'd not taken much from the man because the blood desire had overwhelmed him earlier than he would have expected; Draco should be coming to his senses soon enough.

Knowing that he had only moments before Draco woke up, Harry sat down on the bed again, tracing the wizard's body with his eyes.

A tangle of the softest platinum tresses scattered across the man's heart-shaped face, stopping just short of his sharp chin. Above them, a generous red mouth, partially open, hushed out soft breaths. A sticky looking viscous brown liquid trailed down the blonde's forehead and across his cheeks and jaw. Harry would have been worried about its origin but the form of the man, curled upon the bed held his attention. Whitish brows arched a wicked slash above each closed eye and to his astonishment, Harry found himself missing the grey orbs hidden under them. The orbs that could go from angry to cold to expressionless within the span of a second. Harry wondered how those eyes would shine when Draco looked at him in happiness or, Merlin help him, with arousal.

Harry lowered his eyes, greedily lapping up the sight of whatever skin was visible under the wizard's frayed shirt. The beginnings of a scar caught his attention as his eyes roamed over the pristine and unmarred skin. The scar was thin and barely there; Harry reckoned that he had only noticed it due to the angle at the which the light bounced across it. It seemed to be a tiny scar and reminded Harry of his own marks; many of which had been provided by the cataleptic wizard himself.

The green-eyed man ran a hand through his messy hair; a nervous habit. None of these things were making any sense. Rightfully, he should be hating the wizard; the wizard who looked imposing and ready to strike even in his unconscious state.

The vampire didn't know what the deal was but he was pretty sure of one thing: the universe hated him, for at that moment the wizard shifted slightly on the bed. Harry's breath hitched as the blonde's shirt veered slightly to the left to reveal a pale pink nipple. With the black jeans jealously hugging Draco's narrow hips and the shirt slashing away to expose the pebbled texture of the man's erect nipples, Harry couldn't help but lick his lips in desire.

Draco Malfoy, even lying practically lifeless on the bed, made for a ravishing image. Harry had been trying hard to ignore the desire fueling his blood for the entirety of the evening but it was proving more and more difficult with each progressing second. He stood up and with one large stride was standing right next to the other male. A need to taste the man's blood pushed to the surface of Harry's mind.

Giving in to the temptation that was Draco Malfoy, Harry hovered a palm over the points of the inviting nipples. Leaning closer, he found himself getting ready to press his lips to the wizard's damn fine ones and finally satisfy the hunger boiling in him. In fact, Harry would have done exactly that if not for the wizard opening his eyes and fixing him with a cold glare at that particular moment.

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**Additional Author's Note:**

And the first cliff-hanger….

Thank you for those who Favorited/Followed the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

Do you lovely readers want a special chapter for Christmas? I'll have to pull an all-nighter to complete that, though.


	9. And the enchanted sleep breaks

**Author's Note:**

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Side-Pairings: **Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); Harry Potter/Ginerva Weasley (Past); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

**Brief Summary: **Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

**Warnings: **M/Msex, mild cursing and Wizard bashing.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. The chapter title is attributed to the famous song by Green Day.

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CHAPTER 8: Wake me up when September ends.

The world had changed between the moment when Draco Malfoy was standing in the kitchen, getting ready for his evening routine and right now, wherever he was, and _that_ was never a good thing.

Everything felt… horizontal and it also smelled different. Not a repulsive tang but an untamed scent that immediately set up the wizard's shackles. Words flashed across his mind as Draco tried to access the surroundings without moving from his spot.

_Danger. Predator. Unsafe. Vampire._

A low murmuring hum sounded nearby and Draco's eyes instantaneously snapped open without thought. Immediately, he became aware of two things.

First, his neck and shoulders hurt; badly, almost as if a pair of Hippogriffs had trampled over them.

The second and infinitely more alarming realization came from the pair of bright green eyes hovering right above him. Getting closer. As if… someone was going to kiss him.

Instincts kicked in and Draco immediately smashed his fist into the creep's jaw. The man reeled upright, smoothing a palm along his face but instead of the expected anger, Draco was surprised to see the green eyed male lean back over him and grin a rogue's saucy smirk. "I love it when you play rough, dragon."

The second punch that Draco threw cracked his nose, bruised the blonde's hand and derailed the man for a moment. The vampire slayer took this opportunity to quickly align himself into a sitting position upon the thick comforter.

Shaking his head and sliding him another roguish grin, much to Draco's disbelief, the big brute of a vampire swiped the blood off his upper lip and chuckled. "Try the left side next time, okay? Wouldn't want you to knock a tooth loose, love. Might need it for breakfast later."

So that was how Draco found himself punching the green-eyed vampire for the third consecutive time; on the same side.

At least, that got the vampire to retaliate: the brunette clamped a hand around Draco's fists and wrangled them into a tight clasp. "That's enough, gorgeous." The blonde was slammed backward and before he could wrap his mind around what was happening, he was pinned to the bed. Tension salted the air with a strong urgency as the vampire smiled softly. "Or you'll get me thinking you're as madly in love with me as I am with you."

Draco would have stopped what happened next had he had any idea that it would happen. As it was, he found his lips crushed against the vampire's mouth in a brutal and forceful kiss. It was all Draco could do to twist his head aside and break his lips free from the blissful torture.

As the vampire's lips grazed his jaw, the wizard felt the other man grin against his skin.

Tall, dark and ruthless; the vampire had developed a weird method of dispatching his vengeance and had successfully managed to throw the infamous slayer off balance. Draco slapped away his roaming hand before the brunette could stroke his face.

Stroke him?

As in gently?

A vampire?!

Draco was befuddled and to his credit, the vampire didn't react to the defensive move with another body slam or kiss, though, he did kneel on the bed, leaning over the blonde's body, hands above Draco's shoulders and a dark pitiful expression but inches from his face.

Yeah, it was more pitiful than predatory. Kind of a puppy dog stare, if Draco had to label it.

As the man leaned closer once more, the situation struck home for Draco Malfoy. A vampire was in his home. On his bed. Near enough to— "What the hell?! Aren't you going to kill me?"

"Changed my mind." The green-eyed male offered, an apologetic smile playing on his lips.

Draco, even more confused than before, attempted to knee the man off him but the brunette easily countered his efforts, managing to remain on top of him.

"Obviously, when I first arrived here, my thoughts were clouded by our past encounter. Got a little carried away, didn't I? Hope you will forgive me, dragon." The vampire stroked Draco's cheek again, his eyes fixed upon the blonde's face with a serious expression.

"A little…? Fucking Merlin! You came here to kill me. You are supposed to get carried away! What the hell are you doing now—don't you dare kiss me!" Draco tried to move back but there wasn't much place with the brunette's arms trapping him on the bed.

"I… If it's what you wish?" Thankfully enough, the imminent kiss aborted. Draco watched with suspicious eyes as the vampire raked a hand over his mane of dark hair and sighed, looking as confused as he himself felt. "Don't know what got into me. I don't normally attack those I care about."

That was the last straw. Draco kicked against the vampire's chest with one foot, his face a mask of hatred and anger. How dare the vampire play around with him?! What drugs had he sucked out of his last victim?

"Get away from me, you bloodsucking longtooth!"

As Draco scrambled backward across the bed, now finally free from the vampire's ensnare, his head hit the wooden headboard and a sharp spike of pain overwhelmed him for a moment.

At the vampire's worried expression, Draco cursed under his breath. The pain had helped in sharpening his perspective. He knew that there was nowhere he could escape. His house was carefully warded and there were no weapons in his bedroom, that is, if one doesn't consider books, scented oils and a luscious nine-hundred-count sheet as a weapon.

The vampire sat on the far edge of his bed—on Draco's own quilt that he'd saved from his mother's belongings—as if they were chums or pals. Sensing that the brunette was about to make another attempt at approaching him, Draco moved back even further, a guarded expression on his face. "Back off, vampire!"

"Take your time, sweetheart. I am not going anywhere."

Draco hadn't expected this answer and the worst thing was that he could see it in those irritatingly expressive eyes that the vampire meant every word he had said.

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**Additional Author's Note:**

A short chapter, but hey, it's Christmas. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone.

Thank you for those who Favorited/Followed the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

Next up, we have some figuring out going on between the two men...


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